


Approval

by Bofur1



Series: Pound, Pound, Far Underground [5]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Baby Dwarves, Criminal Masterminds, Family Fluff, Father-Son Relationship, Fatherly Love, Happy Ending, I'm Bad At Titles, Initiations, Kid Fic, Multi, Protective Fathers, Self-Defense, Suspense, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-07 17:30:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1907670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/pseuds/Bofur1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fori Blade-Driver used to live in the Slums, the area of town where the destitute and the psychopaths live together in relative enmity. Of course it's no safe place for a baby, right? But Fori is just like any new father: he wants to introduce his newborn son, Dori, to his friends...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Approval

Fori cracked open an eye as soon as he was sure his wife Jalane was asleep. Sitting up, he carefully maneuvered out from under the sheets and grabbed his cloak from where it hung on a nail in the wall. Slinging it over an arm, Fori strode silently from the room, deftly avoiding creaky floorboards as he headed for the room just two doors down.

Fori had been torn about the idea of relocating his son’s sleeping area, especially because he was a crime-lord with enemies. What if something happened to little Dori and he couldn’t hear it through the walls? Jalane had insisted, however, so Fori had decided to trust her.

As he entered the room, Fori had to pause at the perfectness of this moment. The moonlight was spreading through the window, mutedly gleaming on the wood cradle he had so carefully carved for his baby. And there he was, curled up in a little ball with his thumb in his mouth beneath the initialed blanket Jalane had sewn.

Creeping up to the edge of the cradle, Fori stared at the sleeping child for a long moment, marveling at him. _This is my son,_ he thought in awe. Sometimes he had to remind himself, because he wasn’t always certain he could help create someone so perfect.

“Did a pretty good job,” he whispered. Dori stirred and Fori pressed a hand over his mouth momentarily, fearing the boy would start crying. Instead, Dori rolled onto his back and smiled sleepily around his thumb in greeting.

Fori felt indescribable love swell in his chest as he leaned down and scooped up the baby, lightly resting his cheek on top of the small head, breathing in the infant scent.

“You are the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen,” he murmured as he took the cloak hanging over his arm and swaddled Dori in it. “I hope the others think so too or I’ll have to kill ’em.”

Jalane would never have agreed to this, Fori recalled as he cradled the cloak in his arms and went for the window. Maybe that was why he hadn’t asked...

The Slums was an area Fori remembered well. It seemed just yesterday he had been living on a porch in front of what was supposedly a ‘homeless shelter’. “It wasn’t really,” he told Dori matter-of-factly. “It was actually a—well, if I spoke honestly your ama would never forgive me. Not that she’ll ever find out about this, cor, no...you and me, Dori, we’re goin’ to keep this on the down-low.”

Dori blinked placidly and continued sucking his thumb. Fori laughed, gently running his index finger over the fuzz on Dori’s head. “It’s a promise.”

“Master Voriul,” came a sly voice that made him halt abruptly. “A pleasure to see you again, but I must know...why are you talking to that bundle of cloak?”

A knot crawled into the center of Fori’s chest and a million thoughts raced through his mind, most of which centered around the last time he’d heard the voice, the night his soon-to-be-wife was accosted and nearly had her hair and beard cut off by the owner of those words.

“Kragga. Haven’t seen you in a while neither,” Fori greeted her stiffly. “Funny I should now, cos I had heard rumors you’d left the Slums—hitched up with a rich Man or sommat, taken your daughters and gotten out of here in a hurry.”

“Ah, he was expenadable. You didn’t answer my question though,” Kragga reminded him with a cold laugh, shaking one of her prong-like fingernails at him.

 _The baby is in danger. The baby is in danger._ This thought pounded in Fori’s head and he held the tiny infant close against his chest as Kragga approached.

“What great thievery have you performed this time that you guard it so closely?” Kragga asked, her eyes gleaming with something Fori very much disliked. “Come now, Blade-Driver, I won’t tell anyone about it...”

 _Threat, danger, risk, danger, peril, danger!_ Fori took two steps back, growling.

“You best go about finding someone else to exploit, hag, or—” He was interrupted by a discomfited squeal from Dori, followed by a frustrated grunt as he continued trying to free his arms from the cloak. Kragga’s thin lips curled back, revealing her rotting teeth in a sneer even as her pale brows shot up in surprise.

“A child! I know many things about you, Blade-Driver, but you still manage to offer a new surprise whenever we encounter each other.”

Fori was desperately trying to shush his son, kissing his forehead and murmuring Khuzdûl to him as he loosened the cloak just slightly. Kragga watched him intently.

“Whose is it?” she asked.

That made Fori jerk his head up furiously. “‘It’? ‘ _It’?!_ ” Baring his teeth, Fori lunged and seized her neck, forcibly turning her head toward Dori. “ _He_ is _mine_ and you would do well to remember it!”

“Very well, very well!” Kragga whined, struggling against his hold. “Release me, Blade-Driver, I beg you! I meant no harm to the boy!”

After a long moment, Fori squeezed her neck fiercely one more time before shoving her back. “Scarper,” he commanded threateningly. As soon as she disappeared from sight, Fori practically melted, nuzzled Dori’s cheek against his own.

“I’m sorry for that, little one, I know that scared you. Shh, shh...I promise I’ll try not to be _that_ Adad in front of you again.” Breathing deeply, Fori walked on, recovering from the inexplicably powerful rage he’d just felt. He had always heard from others what it was like to be a protective father, but he hadn’t been expecting that.

The Underground tunnels were reached through a secret entrance at the outskirts of the Slums. Fori felt a wave of nostalgia sweep over him as he trod carefully down the stairs. Before Jalane and Dori had come into his life, he had bolted up and down these steps almost every day. He smiled reassuringly to Dori, who was staring at him with huge, pale blue eyes.

“Don’t worry, _entlin_. We’re goin’ into the company of friends here.”

Dori squirmed in the cloak’s folds, still whining softly. Instead of helping him out, Fori retightened the swaddling around him, not wanting any passing underlings to see him and get interested.

His own underlings had done a good job, Fori mused as he caught sight of a warm golden light emanating from a section hollowed out of the tunnel wall. His fellow crime-lords were in session, just as he’d wanted them.

As he approached, Fori could hear familiar voices grousing about the suddenly-called meeting. “Blade-Driver’s minions insist we meet and now Blade-Driver himself isn’t here!” one of his friends, Tras, was protesting.

“Aw, don’t ye worry about it,” an older lord named Cellanar replied easily as Fori rounded the corner. “I’m certain Blade’ll be right here as soon as he can think up a grand entrance he hasn’t tried yet.”

“Indeed!” Fori agreed with a grin, making them all spin around in their seats. “Cor, everyone’s here? Good thing, good thing. I have somethin’ special to show you—er, actually, some _one_.”

Tras stared at him blankly, but his green eyes grew round when Dori thrashed, finally managing to free his head and arms and peek over the edge of Fori’s cloak. A collective gasp from the other crime-lords made Fori laugh uproariously.

“I wish I had a way to capture the looks on your faces right now and keep them forever!”

“A ch-child?!” Cellanar stammered, the first to regain his voice. “Who—?”

Fori beamed. “Alright, then, introductions. My friends, meet Dori Foriul, boy of my own Dwarrowdam. I did help a bit, though.”

A long, slack-jawed silence met his statement and he raised a braided eyebrow. “Any of you goin’ to come and see him?”

Datli, a Dwarf somewhere between Fori’s inner circle and his acquaintances, slowly rose to his feet, creeping forward almost as though he were approaching a knifepoint. Fori rolled his eyes slightly.

“Datli, mate, he isn’t goin’ to bite you. He doesn’t even have teeth!”

That made Datli bolder. Squaring his shoulders, he strode the last few yards and moved aside the edge of the cloak. Dori made a little noise that Fori was able to translate as curiosity.

“Dori, this is Datli,” Fori whispered, winking at his fellow-crime-lord. “He’s a friend.”

Datli hesitantly offered a finger and Dori took it, studying it thoughtfully before sticking it in his mouth. Datli stiffened, but Fori could tell he was trying not to smile.

The other crime-lords eventually got up and ventured closer, unable to contain their own curiosity. A baby was a rare thing among the lords; in fact, only one other had been presented to them. Fori could feel the wistfulness radiating from the father of that other child as he peered over his shoulder and made a decision.

“Oi, Cellanar,” he started, turning toward him. “You wanna hold him?”

Cellanar’s one eye went wide. “Ye’d let me?”

Fori laughed. “Well, seein’ as you’re the only other father in the room, I think all these others’d drop him on his head.”

Cries of indignation burst out of said others, but Fori ignored them and gestured for Cellanar to take the cloak. Gulping, the older Dwarf did so, carefully readjusting his hold so Dori would be more comfortable.

“...I got t’ hold m’ baby eleven times before she grew int’ a little girl,” Cellanar sighed after a long moment of silence. “I was so busy here, I never had any other time fer her. Fori, listen t’ me...”

Fori took a few steps forward, his attention caught by the fact that he hadn’t called him ‘Blade-Driver’ as they always did.

“Hold him fer as long as ye can. Ye never know if th’ next time ye hold him will be yer last.”

Dori beat Fori to the sigh he had planned, rubbing his face contentedly against Cellanar’s beard.

“Sorry,” Fori apologized. “He can never do that with me, cos...” He gestured vaguely to the three tightly braided sections of his own beard.

“It’s fine,” Cellanar replied with a slight smile. “I’ve...missed this.”

“Will someone finally move so _I_ can see him?!” a frustrated voice called out. Dori lifted his head to see who had spoken.

“Sorry, Ardofir,” Tras and Oreeve said in unison, stepping aside for the huge lord to get through.

Fori swallowed uneasily as Ardofir approached. He was one of the most skeptical of children and he might do something to frighten Dori, be it on purpose or on accident. Dori, however, felt completely unthreatened, babbling happily as soon as he saw him and spreading his fingers out in something not unlike a wave of greeting.

Ardofir hunched, settling his hands on his knees and peering at Dori with a scrutinizing glare. Dori seemed to like the expression because he beamed back, making Ardofir raise an eyebrow dubiously. This just made Dori start laughing gleefully, thinking it was some kind of game.

Fori wondered if this had been as good an idea as he’d originally thought it. These were crime-lords. Sure, he was one of them, but if any of them did anything to Dori...This was the most precious thing in his life and he had just brought him to thieves and murderers for approval. _I’m sorry, Laney, I should’ve—_

“Eh, you ought to bring him again next time,” Ardofir commented, straightening. Fori stopped mid-thought, staring at him.

“Really?” he asked tentatively.

“Sure!” Tras agreed, nodding. “He might become a lord someday himself.”

Fori burst out laughing. “Aww, he’s not dangerous enough.” As he took Dori from Cellanar, Fori added, “I think it’d be best if this were the last time he’s down here. If I bring him again and Jalane catches me...”

A general “Ooohh” of uneasiness finished his thought just fine.

**Author's Note:**

> *Entlin = sweetheart


End file.
